I'm Losing My Mind, Losing Control
by We-All-Have-Scars
Summary: When Mercedes expressed her disbelief in Dave's suicide attempt in 'On My Way', what if Mr. Schue hadn't been the one to speak up? What if it had been Blaine?


The group sat around in a circle, listening intently as Mr. Schue said, "You guys are young. I want you to promise me no matter how depressed you get, no matter how hopeless or alone you feel, you'll try your best to imagine all the amazing experiences you have ahead of you."

"Mr. Schue," Mercedes piped up, "look, I know we're a little dramatic sometimes, but I don't think anyone would ever consider taking their own life."

There was a brief moment of silence, and then a voice, quiet yet determined, whispered, "I did."

Everyone's head whipped around, seeking out the source of the shocking revelation. What none of them expected, however, was Blaine simply staring back at them all, his eyes glimmering with tears. Sighing, he massaged his wrists unconsciously, and said, "It happened my sophomore year. I had…I had _just _come out, and that was difficult enough. I mean," he huffed, a tear slipping down his cheek, "I was already viewed as a waste to my father, whose plans of 'turning me straight' had so obviously failed. But, then...there was a Sadie's Hawkins' dance, and I-I took a friend of mine, who was gay as well, as my date. And, th-these guys…they beat the living crap out of us."

"_I had a really great time, Eric," Blaine said, smiling at his friend as they waited in the school parking lot. _

"_I did, too," he replied, smirking back in response. "It's nice to see you know how to ditch the gel helmet every now and then," he teased, elbowing Blaine in the ribs. Blaine laughed and shook his head, feeling particularly giddy. But, as if his happiness was a soap bubble and any disruption could pop it, shattering it into nothing, he heard slow, deliberate footsteps heading for them._

"_Well, look what we have here," came a deep, slow drawl. Both Eric and Blaine turned quickly on the spot, quickly entering panic mode. "We've got two little homos trying to spread their fairy dust around." Two other boys appeared out of the shadows, glowering their way and chuckling darkly. One of them walked straight up to Blaine, shoving him against the wall, and hissed, "I thought I told you and your little fag, no homos allowed."_

_Blaine breathed in deeply, clenching his fists as his angered deepened, and whispered, "Go to hell," and spit in his face._

_A fist met his jaw, knocking him onto the cold pavement, and he heard Eric's cries worsen right before he slipped into unconsciousness._

By now, most of the girls were absolute wrecks, sobbing quietly. Kurt had made his way over to his boyfriend, rubbing soothing circles into Blaine's back as he tried to gain control over his ragged breathing.

"Besides a few stitches, I was fine. But Eric…Eric was never the same again. It wasn't even just the physical stuff that affected him…He couldn't look at a Varsity jacket without bursting into tears. He'd whimpered every time a loud noise startled him. He-He couldn't take it anymore. Three months after the incident, his mother found him hanging in his closet, with a note reading his favorite song lyric, "People don't you understand? The child needs a helping hand, or he'll grow to be an angry young man one day."

Blaine looked up, his normally bright hazel eyes bloodshot and tearstained. His voice was raw and gruff as he continued, "I blamed myself. I was the one who had asked him as my date. If I hadn't…maybe he'd still be alive." Kurt leaned against his shoulder, his own sobs getting the best of him.

"So, I resorted to cutting, beating-**ANYTHING** to punish myself for the things I'd done. And one day… I snapped. My dad had tried to get me to take his boss's daughter to the movies, and he _just _wouldn't take no for an answer. Finally…he slammed his fist, and-and he said, "I didn't raise you to become a _faggot_!"

_Blaine ran into his room, kicking his door shut behind him. Turning around, he slumped against the frame, finally allowing the tears to fall. Glancing up, the swift movement of his ceiling fan caught his eye. A few short minutes later, he had a chair, one of his brother's old belt, and a scribbled note on his desk. Hoisting himself up onto the chair, he looked at his reflection in his dresser's mirror; short and deathly thin, with dark circles under his eyes and scars trailing up and down his arms. Closing his eyes, he was about to jump, propelling to his freedom, when his door was kicked open. The next he knew, he was enclosed in Cooper's arms, who was crying and screaming and clutching him with all his strength._

"I had to go to a psychiatric hospital after that," Blaine whispered, twiddling his thumbs absently. "That's why I'm only a junior; I missed so much school, I had to repeat sophomore year. There were days when I wished Cooper hadn't found me in time…more days than I'd care to remember. But then, one day, a certain boy who, quite frankly, was a terrible spy, cared to stop me on the Dalton staircase."

Blaine glanced up, smiling softly at Kurt, who was beaming at him with a watery smile. Leaning forward, he captured his boyfriend's lips in a chaste kiss, and continued, "And he saved me. He saved me in every possible way that a person can be saved. But he didn't just save me from the demons of my past, or give me the courage to pursue my future. He _gave _me my future, and as long as he wants me, I'll be here. Because I'll never, _ever _say goodbye to him."


End file.
